


Untitled Smutlet

by mithrel



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Blanket Permission, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-25
Updated: 2009-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak gets tired of Julian's cluelessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Smutlet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Oblivious](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11302) by babel. 



> The take on Cardassian anatomy came from prelocandkanar.

Garak was fed up. He’d been trying to get Julian’s attention since the moment he met him, but the young doctor had elevated obliviousness to an art form. If he wanted him, he’d have to try something more direct. It was a terrible risk, since it might well destroy their friendship, but he couldn’t take being near him every week without being able to have him. He started to make preparations

When he sat down at the Replimat a few days later, he looked at Bashir and tutted.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

“My dear Doctor, Starfleet simply has no sense of style at all.”

Bashir looked at him in exasperation. “They’re _uniforms_ , Garak! They’re supposed to be comfortable and functional, not stylish!”

Garak shook his head. “A pity. Although, given some of the things I’ve seen you wear when you’re off-duty, the uniform isn’t so bad.”

Bashir bristled. “What’s wrong with what I wear when I’m off-duty?”

Garak looked at the ceiling as if asking the gods for patience. “My dear Doctor, you put colors together in ways I never thought were possible and which certainly should be illegal. As for the cut of your so-called clothes…”

“All right, what would _you_ suggest I wear?” Bashir interrupted.

Garak smiled. “Come to my shop at 2300 and I’ll show you.”

***

He had closed down his shop when Bashir entered it, and he smiled at him, then pulled out a suit of clothing. “Here we are.”

Bashir examined what he’d been given. It was a pair of loose indigo trousers, tied with a silver sash, and a high-collared indigo tunic with long sleeves and silver embroidery branching down either side.

“Well? Try it on!”

Bashir took the clothes into the changing room, and opened the curtain a few minutes later.

Garak carefully concealed his reaction. The indigo made Julian’s skin look golden, the high collar accented the elegant column of his neck and the flowing silver designs made him seem even leaner.

He was fiddling with the cuffs. “I can’t do up the sleeves.”

Garak repressed a smile. _I’d planned on it._ “Allow me.”

He walked over to him and deftly did up the button on his left sleeve, caressing his bare wrist as he did so. Bashir shivered. Then he fastened the right sleeve, letting his hand linger for just a moment. He stepped back and eyed Bashir critically.

“Hm, yes, much better. However…” before Bashir knew what he was doing he’d stepped in close and was adjusting his collar, his fingers not-so-accidentally slipping inside to stroke his neck in the process. He let his hands run across his shoulders before stepping back.

Bashir was looking at him. “Garak…”

He smiled innocently. “Yes, Doctor?”

“I…“ he took half a step toward him, then stopped.

Garak moved toward him again. “Is there something wrong?”

“N-no, I just…“

Garak smiled again, and there was a definite predatory edge to it that made Bashir gulp. He took Bashir’s shoulders in his hands, then moved one up over his neck to his chin. Bashir swallowed again.

Cardassians didn’t ordinarily kiss, but he wasn’t about to bite Julian. Not yet anyway. He made a surprised sound as Garak leaned over him and captured his lips, but he didn’t pull away. He clutched Garak’s shoulders to steady himself, and Garak leapt back as if burned.

“What?” Julian was bewildered. “What did I do? Did I hurt you?”

“On the contrary,” he replied, fighting for control.

He saw Julian make the connection. “Oh.” He flushed. Garak wondered if he also remembered that Garak had put his hands on his shoulders at the conclusion of their first meeting.

Now it was Julian who came toward him, and reached out to run a hand down his neck.

Garak fought down a moan, and then Julian was kissing him again.

The boy was really quite good at it, Garak reflected dizzily, as he ran his hands under the tunic and up Julian’s back. Julian moved to suck at his neck, and then he did something Garak would never have expected.

He bit him.

Garak crushed Julian to him, and looked down at him. His face was flushed, his hair in disarray, his pupils dilated with lust, but Garak could see a trace of fear behind the eagerness.

He fought for control, not an easy thing to do with Bashir in his arms. “Julian.”

He looked at him, startled at the use of his given name.

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“I’m sure.”

But Garak heard the quaver in his voice, saw the fear growing stronger, and he shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

He forced himself to release him. Julian looked confused, and started to say something, but he walked resolutely out of his shop without looking back.

***

He had sat down to lunch at the Replimat the next week, fully expecting to be eating alone, when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “May I join you?”

He looked over to see Bashir standing behind him, holding a sandwich and a mug of Tarkalean tea. “By all means.”

Bashir sat down across from him and began to eat his sandwich in silence. As Garak sought for something to say he cursed himself for alienating the only person on the entire station who gave a damn about him.

Bashir broke the silence first. “Garak, about the other day–”

“Forget it, Doctor.”

“I don’t want to forget it. I haven’t been _able_ to forget it.”

Garak forced the thought of Julian fantasizing about what had happened out of his mind. _That’s not what he meant!_

“Garak, how long have you…” Bashir trailed off.

“Long enough,” he replied, hoping he would drop the subject.

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?”

Garak laughed bitterly and Bashir winced. “And just what was I supposed to say, hm? How would you suggest I put it?”

Bashir ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“I haven’t been exactly subtle, you know,” he continued.

“I…know. I suppose I thought it was wishful thinking.”

Garak snorted.

“Look, can we go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?”

Garak eyed him suspiciously, but got up and dumped what was left of his lunch in the disposal. Bashir followed.

***

They ended up in Garak’s quarters. Garak noticed that Bashir seemed uneasy, then recalled that the only other time he’d been in here Garak had said he hated him and then attacked him.

“Doctor, I never told you this, but I’m sorry. For what I said.”

Bashir smiled at him, seeming to know what he meant. “I told you I forgive you, Garak. For that too.”

He gave a slight sigh of relief. Even in the midst of the agony of endorphin withdrawal, part of him had been appalled at what he had said to the Doctor, and he’d regretted it ever since.

“Look, Garak…Elim,” the doctor paused, seeming unsure of Garak’s reaction to the use of his given name. Garak merely looked at him.

“Go on.”

“You were right the other day. I wasn’t sure.”

Garak nodded. He’d sensed that, and forced himself to draw away before he did something unforgivable, even if it had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“But I’ve been thinking about it…ever since. More so than usual.”

Garak’s eyes widened. He’d ignored the implication of Bashir’s comment about wishful thinking, but hearing that he had thought about it before…maybe he hadn’t been as oblivious as he’d thought. “I see.”

“And…I’m sure.”

Garak searched the young doctor’s face, looking for any sign of uncertainty, and found none. “Very well, if you’re certain.” He moved over to him, feeling curiously awkward. He was surprised when Julian seized his shoulders and hauled him in for a bruising kiss.

It went on for quite some time, taking on a life of its own. Garak was breathless as he pulled away. Julian moved to nibble on his neck-ridge, and Garak felt his control dissolving. “Just answer me one question,” Julian murmured against his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Those clothes you made for me…was it entirely a ploy to get my attention?”

“Not entirely, Doctor. You have absolutely no sense of style.”

Julian laughed, then said, “Well, you have my attention. I just wish you’d done something before. And one more thing,” he added, as he undid the tailor’s tunic and kissed his way down the ridges on Garak’s chest.

“Yes?” Garak managed.

Julian looked up at him, and gave him a positively evil grin. “I don’t want to hear you call me ‘Doctor’ again. Not now. It’s Julian or nothing.”

“Julian,” Garak agreed, savoring the feel of the name in his mouth.

He suddenly realized that Julian had progressed much farther than he had initially thought, and he now had less clothing on than Julian did. He pulled the young man up, and moved his hands to the fastening of the hideous uniform. He pushed the jumpsuit off his slender shoulders, and Julian wriggled out of it, discarding it on the floor along with his boots.

Now he wore only the lavender undershirt and a pair of briefs, and his arousal was obvious. He moved toward him again, but Julian backed away. “I think we’d better continue this somewhere more comfortable.”

“I quite agree.” He led him into the bedroom, and pushed him gently down on the bed. Julian peeled off his undershirt, and Garak caught his breath and frankly stared. Julian's long neck and slender shoulders surmounted a lean, wiry torso with no excess fat. There was a slight dusting of hair across the chest, tapering down into his briefs. His lithe legs were parted slightly and his deft surgeon’s hands rested on his knees. Garak wondered what those hands would feel like on his skin.

“Like what you see?” Julian teased.

Garak started, somewhat embarrassed, then said simply, “You’re beautiful, Julian.”

He made a disparaging sound, but looked pleased nonetheless. “Come here. I want to see you too.”

Garak went over to the bed gladly, shedding the rest of his clothing on the way. He lay down next to Julian and while the human looked at him with frank admiration, he drew off the briefs and discarded them.

Julian sighed as his erection was freed, and reached out to run his hands over Garak’s chest, tracing each ridge. For his part, the tailor ran his hands all over Julian’s smooth skin, carefully gauging his reactions. He quickly found the places that were most sensitive–the hollow of his throat, behind his ear, his nipples, his navel–and took full advantage of them, but never moved lower. Soon Julian was moaning in frustrated desire.

“God, Garak, stop teasing!”

He grinned down at Julian. “Oh, I don’t think so. I enjoy watching you squirm.”

Julian growled, and with surprising strength he flipped over, so that Garak was beneath him.

“Let’s see how you like it once the tables have turned.”

And he began his own exploration, squeezing Garak’s neck ridges, outlining the indentation in his chest before dipping inside, running his hands over the ridges at his hips. Garak’s penis had slid out of his body some time before, and was now fully erect, but Julian ignored it, instead moving up to run his hands over Garak’s face, stroking the ridges behind his ear, running the backs of his fingers over his cheek, tracing around his eyes. The motions were so sensual, and so unexpectedly tender that Garak closed his eyes, only to open them in surprise when Julian kissed the indentation in his forehead.

Feeling vulnerable, he took hold of Julian and flipped him over again. He reached down and took hold of the human erection and Julian gave a strangled moan and bucked his hips upward. Garak stroked him for a while, while he writhed under him, until he finally gasped, “Garak, fuck me please!”

Garak was surprised to hear the crudity slip from his lips and stopped stroking him. “Are you sure?”

Julian growled in frustration. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. For the love of God, Garak, just _do_ it!”

Garak got up from the bed and went to the replicator. He came back with a small bottle, sat down on the bed and took the cap off. He poured some of the warmed amberwood oil into his hand, the scent inflaming him further, and began to prepare Julian. The young man moaned as Garak’s finger breached him, and he paused for a moment, uncertain, but then Julian pushed against the finger and it slid further inside. Garak brushed a small spot, and Julian’s hips bucked frantically. Intrigued, he did it again, and Julian arched off the bed, with a strangled, “God _damn_ you, Garak!”

Garak merely chuckled and added another finger, scissoring them until Julian was sufficiently stretched, then coated his erection in more of the oil, and eased into him.

It was all he could do to hold still until Julian adjusted, but then he thrust his hips up and Garak slid in the rest of the way. He looked down at the young man, gazing up at him with his pupils dilated with desire, and an expression of…what was that?...trust? affection?

…love? No, it couldn’t be!

He turned his face away, and pulled out of Julian, then slid in again. Julian moaned, and his legs wrapped around his waist as he surged up to meet his thrusts. Despite his scheming, Garak had never thought he would actually get this far, and to actually be making love to Julian had an impact on him he couldn’t have expected. He’d finally admitted, if only to himself, what Julian meant to him, and this was much more than a simple physical release.

He reached between them to stroke Julian’s erection, and his writhing increased. Too soon he felt fluid drench his hand as Julian came, and the spasms sent him over the edge as well.

He pulled out of Julian, and turned away, unable to face him.

“Garak?” he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Garak, please look at me.”

Reluctantly, he turned over to look at Julian, who was sweaty, flushed and wearing an expression of concern. “Garak, you’re crying.”

“I am not!” Technically true; the lapse had been momentary.

Julian looked like he was going to say something, but instead simply reached up to stroke his cheek. “Do you regret it?”

“What? No!”

Julian looked slightly surprised at his vehemence. “Neither do I.” He paused, then murmured, “I love you.”

Garak stared at him in frank astonishment for a moment, searching his face. Julian’s expression was completely open, and he couldn’t doubt the emotion displayed there. He struggled for a long moment, then replied, “I love you too.”


End file.
